Page 20 of Traitors Gate

ROSS ARRIVED A COUPLE OFminutes early to pick up his daughter from St Luke’s, well aware he couldn’t risk being late for Jojo; William occasionally, the Hawk rarely, but his daughter, never.

He found a space to park his Mini not far from the school gate. As he reversed into it, he saw Ms Clarke – Jojo’s favourite teacher who was regularly mentioned in dispatches – conducting an animated conversation with a man Ross immediately recognized. It was the clenched fist that made him move so quickly. He switched off the engine, leapt out of the car and charged across the road, ignoring the screeching brakes and blasts of horns which caused the man to turn and spot the last person he wanted to see heading towards him.

The man unclenched his fist and let go of several small white pills that fell to the ground, most of them disappearing down a drain he’d been hovering over. He was about to take off when Ross grabbed his shoulder and yanked his arm half-way up his back.

‘You’re nicked,’ he said before cautioning the man, although Ross suspected he was well familiar with the procedure.

Several parents stared on in disbelief as Ms Clarke gathered up the remaining pills that were still lying in the gutter. She placed them carefully in a handkerchief and handed them over to Ross. Moments later, Jojo came rushing out of the front gate to see her father marching someone she didn’t know across the road.

‘Where’s Dad going with that man?’ she asked Ms Clarke but didn’t get a satisfactory reply as her father disappeared across the green.

Ross didn’t let go of the suspect’s arm until they’d reached the nearest police station on the far side of the green. He took him straight to the custody suite and told the sergeant that he’d caught Simpson in possession of a class A drug, while loitering on the pavement outside St Luke’s playground. The sergeant authorized the prisoner’s detention and advised him of his rights before preparing a custody record. He began filling in the details, starting with his name, Reg Simpson, or at least that was the name he’d gone by when he’d last appeared in front of the beak.

Simpson didn’t respond to any of the questions put to him by the custody officer, including his date of birth, address or next of kin. When he finally did speak, it was only to say, ‘I know my rights and demand to see my lawyer.’

One phone call and fifteen minutes later, a well-known local solicitor turned up, who represented most of the villains on the patch. Mr Danvers Meade, a dapper man in his early forties, was dressed in a three-piece suit, white shirt and striped tie, the picture of respectability, although Ross knew that whenever one of Meade’s wealthier clients ended up in the dock, Mr Booth Watson QC would appear for the defence.

Meade gave Ross a curt nod and after reading the charge sheet made no attempt to hide his own brand of sarcasm. ‘So he had three ecstasy tablets and a packet of Liquorice Allsorts on him? If that’s the best you can come up with, I have a feeling the CPS won’t be pressing charges.’

‘Liquorice Allsorts won’t get him off the hook. He’ll still have to explain what he was doing there in the first place.’

‘Should it ever get to court, Inspector, you’ll find out exactly what my client was doing there.’

Ross clenched his fist but didn’t respond, aware that any altercation would only help Simpson when he applied for bail. Meade knew every loophole in the book and had invented a few of his own.

‘Simpson’s got a record as long as his arm,’ snapped Ross.

‘Which I don’t have to remind you, Inspector, cannot be revealed in court, unless of course you want the case thrown out before the judge puts on their wig.’

The two men continued to glare at each other like fighting cocks before the referee came between them.

‘Lock him up,’ said the custody officer, looking directly at the lawyer. ‘His usual cell.’ A burly young constable led Simpson away.

‘Have to leave you, Sarge,’ said Ross, once he’d finished filling in the arrest form and handed it in. ‘My daughter’s waiting for me.’

Ross quickly left the police station without another word and ran all the way back to St Luke’s, relieved to find Ms Clarke still chatting to Jojo. A smile crossed his daughter’s face when she first saw her father, to be replaced by a frown, reluctantly followed by the suggestion of a smile.

‘Who was that man?’ she demanded.

‘Your father did a great service for the school this afternoon,Jojo,’ said Ms Clarke before Ross could respond, ‘and we should all be very grateful.’

Ross thanked Ms Clarke as he took Jojo’s hand and they walked slowly across the road together. He had for some time wanted to ask her teacher out for a drink, after meeting her at a parent teacher get-together when it quickly became clear that she knew Jojo better than he did. But as she was now certain to be a key witness for the prosecution when the case eventually came to court, he realized that would have to wait until after the jury had reached its verdict. However, that didn’t stop him asking his daughter some fairly unsubtle questions as he drove her back home. Ross didn’t know if Ms Clarke was married, had a boyfriend, or even had kids of her own. In fact, he didn’t even know her first name.

‘Her name is Alice,’ said Jojo without further prompting. ‘No boyfriend at the moment, although one or two of the other teachers have tried, and she’s thirty-two.’

‘How can you possibly know all that?’ asked her father as they drew up outside William’s home.

‘I’m the daughter of a detective,’ teased Jojo, tapping her nose with a forefinger as she’d seen her father do so often in the past. She paused before adding, ‘You fancy her, don’t you, Dad?’ which silenced Ross in a way no criminal had ever managed.

Ross parked his Mini outside the house and pressed a pound coin in the meter. The front door was opened by Artemisia before they were half-way up the path. He got a hug from his second favourite girlfriend, and a more reluctant one from Peter.

‘You’re later than usual,’ said William, checking his watch when Ross joined him in the front room.

‘I caught Reg Simpson red-handed outside St Luke’s with some ecstasy tablets. He’d got rid of most of them down the nearest drain before I could arrest him, but he still had enough to be charged with possession.’

‘Given half a chance,’ said William, ‘I’d lock up every dealer along with their suppliers and throw away the key. Half the petty crimes on our patch are committed by desperate addicts in need of cash that ends up in Reg Simpson’s back pocket.’

‘Locking them up is far too good for them,’ said Ross. ‘I’d happily castrate them,’ he said as Beth walked into the room. ‘You look terrific,’ he added without drawing breath.

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